Three for the Love of One
by Medora Redtree
Summary: When a young woman trying escape life in the fast paced reality she always knew moves to the French countryside she gets more than she bargains for after a walk in the woods. I do not nor will I ever own the spectacular characters of the Three Musketeers.
1. Chapter 1

CH1: The Rider and The Drunk

Stepping into the woods, Amelia picked up the thick smell of horse and fresh mud. It hadn't rained in weeks and she hadn't heard the hooves galloping across the moss as she dreamed she would hear when she moved to the small remote home on the French country side. Taking her normal path Amelia made her way to the creek, breathing in the fresh scent, she heard the babbling brook up close and was eager to sit beside it. She's been enjoying the quiet, unlike her normal hustle and bustle of city life in DC. The lack of sirens and shouts has taken time to get use to, spending many a glorious night sitting on the porch of the cabin, watching the shadows of the night and waiting for the sun to rise.

Amelia smiled widely when she dipped her hands into the cool water. Placing the water on her face and neck, she listened to the sounds around her; the brook lulled her into a trance, soothing her racing mind for a few precious moments. It was only when the muscled legs of a dark mare raced past her did she look up, losing her balance and falling into the creek.

Screaming the most of the English obscenities she knew, Amelia switch to French with an ease she had barely mastered. It was enough to get his attention as she tore the now soaked sweatshirt from her body. She felt the beginnings of a bruise and glared at the rider mounted on the beautiful horse. "You have quite the mouth on you, lad. I would advise you to apologize quickly before I am forced to take swift action." The man said in a strange mixed accent that made the hair on her arms stand up. "Watch it buddy! You knocked me over, I'm not gonna apologize for a damn thing til you get off that horse and say your own freaking apology." Amelia snapped through clenched teeth. She had always been the hothead of the group, always willing to stick her neck into a fight for justice and honor of others. It was rare that she put any of that energy towards herself but since her few months in the cabin she had seen the slight error in her ways.

There was a long pause and as the man considered it, he seemed to be watching her intently. "Don't make me pull you off." She warned. The man chuckled, shrugging lightly sliding gracefully off the horse. Without the glare of the summer sun, Amelia noticed that he looked like something out of an old swashbuckler movie. His blonde hair hung around his face in a rough and shaggy way, all the while being silky and touchable. He wore a grey flowing shirt with wide sleeves that puffed at his wrist. The shirt was tucked into a soft looking fabric and finished with boots that looked like they belonged in a museum. His eyes seemed to hold wisdom and annoyance at the same time, glaring lightly with laughter splayed across his face. The fact that he took amusement in her anger only fueled the fire and it took all her energy not to attempt to break his jaw that was covered in the same sunbrushed light brown. "I'm waiting!" she said as dignified as she could. Her voice came out husky and low, dripping with anger. "I apologize for you inability to move out of the way of a galloping horse and for the lack of manners you father never saw fit to teach you." He said coolly.

The mention of Amelia's father who had been killed 10 years before after being in the grocery store during a robbery, caused her to grind her teeth to keep from crying. "And I'm sorry that a man who obviously spends more time in an asylum than in the sun has ruined such a glorious day for me." Amelia snapped walking away towards the cabin just outside the wood's edge but the clearing she met instead of her dark wood porch had her turning around in search of a road or landmark. Pulling out her cell phone she saw that it had died along with her pager. "Well isn't this just fine and dandy." She hissed to the grounds as she set off around the forest hoping to find someone on the way. After a few hours of walking she found her way into a rustic but busy village. She suddenly felt bad for poking fun at the rider's attire. Apparently she lived near a colony of thespians or re-enacters and the man must have been late for something and that explained his snippy attitude. Instantly she felt calm and figured she should enjoy her find before finding her way back home.

Finding a bar Amelia walked in and the strong smell of alcohol and body odor made her gag reflexes scream for release. Holding on to her composure and breakfast she walked to the counter and tried to get the barkeeps attention. "Hey! Sir! Oi!" getting no acknowledgement, Amelia set her sights on finding a seat. Trying to avoid a woman carrying mugs of what she assumed was ale, she backed away, having to sidestep to avoid a man leering at a woman who's dress barely held in her full breasts. Looking down at her chest which was mediocre at best and hidden beneath the baggy long-sleeve grey t-shirt that survived the impromptu creek swim, she sidestepped again. In her sidestep she collided with the belly of a man who spewed his drink over her head, drenching her with alcohol and spittle. "Oh for the love of-" she started, glaring up at the man who laughed heartily as if he had just told a joke. The two women around him giggled until Amelia kicked the man hard in the shin. "Oi, watch it!" she yelled.

"Don't mistake me for a drunk me boy, It would do well to remember who you have just assaulted if I were you." He said with a pompous voice that was loud and meant to attract a crowd. That was the second time someone had mistaken her for a man. This gender confusion was actually interesting to her. He reminded her of her boss, a grey grubbing arrogant man who used others to get ahead. "_Sir,_ If you were me I would make it my duty to stay inside and not inflict my face upon others especially these fine ladies who have come to the misfortune of being in your company. By chance, did you loose a bet…" she said with a chuckle to the red haired woman. "Porthos, I think the little one has just challenged you." said another man who walked up with a sly inebriated smile. If this man called Porthos was round, not fat but in a jolly way big, than this boy was very slender. He looked at least 10 yeas behind the first man, his hair a dark chestnut compared to Porthos' black. The second man had no mustache or beard like Porthos as seemed to hold himself with less respect and more humanity. "You damn right I challenge you, you fat baboon!" Amelia spat out moving her baseball cap to face backwards.

The two men whispered and looked as if they were weighing the options, all the while looking at their surroundings. It seems that this was a regular occurrence, as the men and women around them did not take much attention. The one name Porthos seemed to ring small bells in her mind but the anger of having alcohol spit on her wouldn't allow another topic to take affect. "We will have a duel!" Porthos announced turning to the others directly around him. "With what!" Amelia quickly asked. She saw that both men had swords and probably had to practice a great deal to be able to keep them. "A drinking duel." The younger man clarified, smiling at her horrified face. She growled out a few curses and sat at the table. She smiled inwardly but held the fear on her face. She played games like this when she was in high school and later in college. Though it had been a few months since her last bout with tequila she was sure her tolerance would have her winning in no time, considering that Porthos had a head start already.

The mugs placed in front of them smelled of the same thick brew that still dripped behind her ears and made her back sticky and slick at the same time. The first sip made her gag slightly at the harsh taste but she told herself it was like crude beer and persevered on. Four mugs later and Porthos was jollier but still determined. The serious look was in his eyes as he boasted of the impending win on his part. "You see lad, you will not beat me for I am Porthos! D'Artagnan here has seen my ability to consume and I don't believe I will be bested today by a young one such as you." He said with slurred words. For a drunk he was very articulate. "So when I win, what do I get?" She asked after downing her 7th mug. She felt the gurgle of a full stomach coming and the buzz from the ale. Amelia was getting loopy and it might slip that she was not a man and then someone might try to take advantage of her.

"When you win? Well _if_ you will received my respect and the knowledge that you are respected by the great Porthos." He said with lazy and sloppy hand gestures. "The biggest windbag this side of Europe…" Amelia mumbled into her mug with a chuckle. A few hours later, she had succeeded in staying conscious longer than Porthos and smiled gallantly at D'Artagnan, but the moment was short lived as she soon fell victim to the ale and slipped into a drunken sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Note to my few readers...I respond well to encouragement...makes me write faster and more often!

Now on with the story!!!!

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CH2: A lady?

The bright white hot pain in her back was nothing compared to the pounding at her temples. She felt as if she had been weighed down, her limbs like lead. Sitting up she realized that she wore no clothing! "What the-" she said looking around the room. The large bed took up most of the dimly lit room. There was a noise outside the door that took her attention away from trying to figure out her surroundings. In her scramble to find her clothing she was forced to dive back into the bed and cover as much of her body with the dark red sheets. A blonde haired woman from entered holding a bundle of clothing under her arm and a large pitcher. "You slept quite a bit there lass. Porthos and D'Artagnan brought you here after you passed out in the bar. I didn't mention you true gender as the poor souls still believe you to be a man. I'll let you decide that disclosure of information." The woman said in a thick French accent. It took Amelia a moment to realize that all this time the people around her had been speaking in French and it sounded like English to her. Something was strange about this colony of actors.

"Um….thank you, Is there a way I could wash up? Porthos spewed a great deal of ale on me last night, ergo the drinking match." Amelia said with a groan. Thick curtains of black and red hair fell into her face. The mass of braids she had put her hair into the day before had been taken out, leaving her too long hair to be free. "Certainly, I brought you some of my husband's clothing and a dress of mine. I didn't know if your rouse was over yet." She said with a smile. Amelia nodded in appreciation sliding slowly out of the bed, taking the sheet with her. "My name is Constance, what is your name young one?" the blonde said leading her to the tub. It was already filled with water and it smelled of peppermint and vanilla. "Amelia, but I prefer Frankie." Amelia said with a sigh as the warm water encased her body. She realized then that she had taken the sheet with her but decided to leave it draped over the tub.

She washed quickly dunking her head under the water. Letting her body slip under the water she left only her head above the water surface, pulling the sheet so that she was hidden from the world. The darkness and the quiet let her mind waunder and she suddenly realized who Porthos and D'Artagnan where. "Musketeers." she whispered to herself with a gasp. But these men looked familiar in a way that did not click yet. As she reached for the sheet, she heard voices near the room. Soon she heard footsteps and realized that two men had entered the room. "You say he bested Porthos in drinking? Well, I would like to meet the lad. Where is he?" said a man with a rich voice. "I left him in here Aramis, he must have left." She heard Constance said with uncertainty. The clothes were still there and Constance heard a gentle lapping from the tub. "Hmmm, well if he turns up, I'd like to have a few words with him." The man called Aramis said before leaving.

"Miss Frankie…." Constance whispered tapping the side of the tub. Amelia pulled back the sheet and slowly stepped out of the tub, wrapping her self back in the sheet. Drying off, she grabbing the second pile of clothing that turned out to be the husband's clothes and after sifting through the first pile she found some undergarments. With Constance's help she was dressed. She had to wiggle a little to get comfortable in the mix of attire from both gender. Towel drying her hair, she reluctantly let Constance brush it. "Your hair is so soft and long. I have never seen it such a color, like a deep mahogany set ablaze." She heard Constance gush. Standing up she tried to hide her hair but realized that the thick waves sat stubbornly past her hips. With a sigh, she pulled her hair back some so that it was out of her face. Donning one of D'Artagnan's hats she crept out of the bedroom and tried to make her way out of the house without running into the fabled musketeers, unfortunately her love of books nagged at her as she past a large library.

The books inside were first editions and it made Amelia whimper with glee. But she soon realized her mistake as she heard the loud voice of Porthos near the door. "Where is this lad? I wish to congratulate him on his well deserved win." He said in the foyer. A woman timidly gave way of her location. Amelia quickly hid behind the door and waited. As soon as he was far enough in the room, she bolted out, racing for the door and colliding with the rest of the musketeers. "You!" said a man whipping her around to face him. It was the rider from earlier….who she now deduced was Athos, the leader. "Oh shit." She said under her breath. Constance was coming down the stairs at the time and rushed to Amelia's aid. "Don't harm her!" she chirped pushing past the men. The situation seemed to have been dipped in honey. On the one hand, she was meeting the fabled musketeers but on the other she was discovered to have bested one as a woman pretending to be a man.

"A girl?" Porthos said joining the group. "Young lady I would appreciate some type of explination." Athos said with a voice that made her feel ashamed. "Well I would have appreciated not having ale spewed over me or a man knocking me into a creek!" She snapped her eyes narrowed on the men. "This is the boy you collided with earlier?" D'Artagnan asked looking at Athos. "From what I have been hearing miss, you have had many an opputunity to be compromised." Aramis said as if he were lecturing her. "That's it! I've had enough of lad this and lady that and if one more person calls me miss somebody is losing a knee." She growled out, turning on her heal. The sudden outburst gave her enough time to escape but she was barely out the door when an arm wrapped around her waist and picked her up. She was soon thrown over Porthos' shoulder. "Put me down!" she roared, flailing her limbs, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

The sudden movements and the battle to walk on her own, was too much for Amelia's stomach. The last of the ale found its way dripping down Porthos' back to her surprise and amusement. "Oh dear." Constance said leading Amelia away from the men. "If you paid a little more attention to the people around you maybe this wouldn't have happened. Athos, you are wise enough to look for people and at least give them a chance to get out of your way. Porthos, not every woman is dressed like a wench and you should have realized such. Now I'm going to tend to Miss Frankie and you will all have a chance to apologize when she is of better health." Constance said helping Amelia up the steps. Her heart went out to the poor girl who had looked so frightened when she was uncovered as a woman to the men. She could feel the trembles as she set the girl back in the bed. She was running a fever and a thin sheen of sweat covered her face. Stripping her out of the clothes she used the water in the basin to dab her forehead.

"Miss Frankie, you have a terrible fever. You will have to stay here until you are better. Do you have any family of which we may send news of your location and condition?" Constance asked. Amelia shook her head weakly, her breathing becoming labored. There was a knock at the door later that night as Constance tried with no success to get Amelia to drink a little water. "Yes?" she inquired when she saw that it was Aramis and her husband, D'Artagnan, sitting at the door. "We've come to check on the lady. Is she well?" D'Artagnan asked peering into the room. Her dark hair covered most the pillows and her hazel green eyes looked vacantly in his direction. "She has consumed a great amount of ale and was jostled about by your friend. She is badly bruised, no doubt thanks to Athos. I do not know what other illness may be inflicting pain as she has a fever and her breathing is very weak." Constance said looking weak herself.

"M'lady, you look as if you have done all you can. Please get some rest, I will watch over her till the morning. I have a feeling that she may have been running from something and need protection." Aramis said looking at the young girl.


	3. Chapter 3

CH3: Trapped

Amelia woke the next morning to see Aramis asleep on a chaise near the bed. Her head no longer throbbed but she had aches and a scratchy throat. "I have a cold." She mumbled to herself. Tiptoeing past the sleeping musketeer, she dressed quickly and walked towards the door. "I advise you return to bed, Roaring Girl." Aramis said sleepily, stretching as he stood. With a slightly clearer head, Amelia soon realized why the men looked so familiar. "I'm in a movie." She thought to herself letting out a gasp. Idly chewing on a nail, she mulled over the possibility that she was insane or in a coma. "God I hope so" she said aloud. She sneezed and looked for something to blow her nose with. Ignoring Aramis she found a cloth and after a few blows, she could breathe again.

"Are you alright?" Aramis asked walking over to her. Amelia jumped at the closeness and bumped into the dresser. "Son of a bitch!" She yelped grabbing her side. "Little Roaring Girl, you should pay more attention to your surroundings." He said putting his hand on her hip. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she looked down at him. Her face felt warm and the pull in her stomach was strong. It had been almost a year since a man had touched her. "Why do you call me Roaring Girl?" she asked stepping away from him. "It's a play of a woman who dresses like a man but doesn't hid her gender from the others." He explained clearing his throat. "I've heard the story, I do read you know. I don't dress like this to display my gender or stick it to the man. I just think that it's easier to walk around in pants than in many folds of skirts. Plus, I don't ride sidesaddle." Amelia said with a smile.

He "hmm" at her and she growled out a curse. "So why do you all assume I'm so young?" Amelia asked after a long silence. Her nose was buried in a book she found beside the nightstand. "Well Roaring Girl, it seems that in our haste we assumed you to be a young boy with a loose tongue, very much like our friend D'Artagnan but under a closer examination and without ale in our system, we deduced that you were in fact female. The assumption that you are a young woman only comes from the knowledge that you look to not have yet married." Aramis explained setting his own book down. It was Amelia's turn to "hmm" in his direction which earned her a raised eyebrow. The silence returned and was only broken with the occasional sniffle and Amelia humming Guns and Roses' "Paradise City".

"Where is Constance?" She said finally, toying with a black wave. "She went with D'Artagnan into town to buy you proper attire. We don't need anyone else mistaking you for a man." Aramis said with a sigh. "I like men's clothing, didn't you hear me. Look here Mister, I'm not a helpless or hapless woman with fleeting virtue or a sheltered past. All of France could mistake me for a man for all I care. I have no overprotective, oversensitive, scathing or bumbling husband to come to my precious aid. I am on my own and I like it that way. I don't need people running after me trying to protect me!" Amelia said with an exasperated squeak. "What about a caring, sensual, masculine but gentle lover?" He asked locking eyes with her. She opened her mouth a few times, praying a comment would appear but it didn't. The silent Aramis looked at Amelia with an amused grin that made her want to knock his teeth out. "So what brings you to Paris?" he asked successfully changing the subject. "I live in a cabin past the woods. I needed to get away from my old life and start new. I have enough saved to keep me fed and washed for the next 20 years and by then I might have an idea of what I might want to do with my life." She said blowing her nose again.

Staring out the window, she lazily wrapped a finger around a chunk of hair, remembering her old life. She had been working a double life for over 6 years now, English tutor and columnist for a popular magazine. Her temper left her with only a few friends, who as she expected, gently lost touch leaving her to her books and photography. Her mother had died when she was young leaving her a small fortune that she had not touched unlike her two sisters who soon found themselves married to wealthy doctors who were never home. Her father was her only ally in the Goucharde family and when he died she decided to live for herself and found a less active life, longing for the simple. She found her love of nature to expand as she learned more of the French countryside that her mother had loved so much. She felt Aramis' eyes on her but it was the steps he took towards her that made her heart stop for a few moments. "You seem to be lost in a thought." He said quietly standing beside her. "Well nothing slips by you, Captain Obvious." She snapped trying to move away from him without him noticing. "The past is but a memory and memories come and go, brought up for various purposes. What is the purpose now?" he continued, untangling the hair from her finger. "I was just thinking about how much I lost before I realized that where I was wasn't for me. I came back to France to have a few moments without event and look where that got me." Amelia said with a bitter chuckle.

"You know, Porthos believes that you drugged him in the drinking game." He said without even turning in her direction. "Oh he does, the nerve of that windbag!" Amelia said with a scoff. Aramis chuckled at the flash of anger that was very unbecoming of a lady. This woman was different, feisty and fool hearted like D'Artagnan but graceful and innocent like a young mare. "A man once said that 'Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity. They seem more afraid of life than death.' I'm tired of looking for false security and the hope that a happy ending will just fall into my lap without a little sweat and blood. I do not wish to be anyone's damsel, Aramis." Amelia rambled capturing another lock of hair with her finger. "I can see that? God has truly done wonders in your creation, M'lady." He said with a smile. "You will not woo me with your kind voice, understanding eyes and wise mouth. I have known men of your caliber who use the gift of knowledge and culture to slip beneath her skirt." She finished, locking eyes with him. Grabbing the front of his shirt, Amelia pulled Aramis closer, kissing him hard. His mouth tensed and took only seconds to respond, his hands close behind. He pulled her in, letting his hands cover her hips.

The moan across his lips was his undoing, as she pressed herself against him. Pulling away the shirt, he slipped his hand beneath finding more garments between him and her tanned flesh. Cool fingertips found her skin as he ran a digit across her collar bone. She hissed loudly as the fresh bruise from her fall in the creek met Aramis' hand. "God forgive me!" he grunted against her mouth. He pulled away and looked at her. "Did I hurt you?" he asked inspecting the bruise. "No, its just the result of falling in a creek." Amelia chuckled, gently taking an earlobe into his mouth. His mood lightened and he bent down, softly kissing the darkened flesh. She suddenly felt constricted in the female undergarments. As is to read her mind, Aramis pulled the strings of her undergarments, sliding them both off with an expertise she would question later. Feeling as if she was the center of attention, she soon stripped him of his shirt, relishing in the sight of his taut chest, dusted with black hair. She didn't know what to expect but as she ran her hands over his chest she was pleased at what she was inspecting. His skin was soft and hard with muscle. Amelia let out a sigh and kissed her way down to his hip. "I do hope the man who intends to marry you will not be cross." He said swooping Amelia up and placing her on the bed.

Taking a nipple into his mouth, Amelia's sarcasm flew out the window. His hands roamed over her stomach, resting on the pierced navel. "Did you know that you have a jewel coming out of your belly?" Aramis asked taking a closer look. The silver barbell was snuggly in place with a small amount of Mystic Topaz dangling from it. "Had it for 4 years, I might have noticed a few times." Amelia said with a chuckle. Wrapping a leg around his waist, she successfully flipped him over, their faces encased in the walls of her hair. They rolled back and forth on the bed, taking turns on top, never once was he inside her. The growing need was too much. Arching her back she rolled him over and slowly began stroking him until the moans were too much and with a tiny flick of her tongue, she hopped onto his length. She gasped at the size of him, a small satisfied grunt at the full feeling that was slightly painful. "You're not……" he said with a gasp. Amelia shook her head with a timid sly look that made Aramis harden more. Amelia squeaked at the feeling but as she moved closer to kiss him, she moaned at the small amount of friction. "I hope your _eagerness _wasn't only because of virginity?" Amelia said tightening her muscles around him when she said eagerness.

He growled out a comment that she didn't hear and when she leaned closer to listen to his words, he flipped her onto her back, slowly moving in and out of her. She moaned louder, arching and pushing against him, matching his pace. "Zut alor!" Amelia grunted with a gasp. He pulled out quickly and flipped her over, thrusting from behind. Amelia's knees dug into the plush bed as he pushed harder and harder. He roughly nibbled at her neck, suckling the nape of her neck. Moving away from his amazingly hard member, she pushed him into a sitting position, slowly lowering herself onto his lap, riding him slowly, their noses barely an inch apart. A slew of groans and French curses flew out of Aramis' mouth as he came, her close behind. They collapsed on the bed breathing heavily. "You are truly a marvel, M'lady." He said with a sigh of content. Amelia sat up as her ears picked up the sound of hooves. "Aramis! Bloody hell man! They're back!" she said jumping up. Jumping into the slacks and shirt, she realized that she wasn't wearing any underwear. "Commando it is." She said quietly, pulling her hair back from her face. She dabbed bits of pepper mint oil on her body and through her hair.

When she turned, Aramis was dressed as well, looking deliciously disheveled. Leaning against the window sill, she hung one leg out of the window and picked up her book. "Til we meet again." He said with a slight bow. Amelia raised an eyebrow, giving him a sly smile.


End file.
